


same souls, both sides of the banks

by trashedmouthtozier



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anyone else can suck it, Based on a Tumblr Post, Childhood Friends, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, Love Confessions, M/M, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, The Kissing Bridge (IT), Tumblr Prompt, basically my version of what happens after eddie survives the final battle, because everything else makes me cry, because he has a reason to now, granted i cried writing this too, i don't use any slurs though, i hope i wrote these characters well man, i just needed to get this out of my system, my mom ships has shipped reddie since the mini series so i have her blessing, no beta we die like men, richie finally confronts his inner demons, tw for internalized homophobia, unlike eddie who is not dead but in fact alive and well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 20:24:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20606777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashedmouthtozier/pseuds/trashedmouthtozier
Summary: He remembered growing up with five-foot-nothing, anxious Eddie Kaspbrak as his best friend; his partner in crime. He remembered the hideout, the broken arm, he remembered Eddie’s slowly gained confidence. He remembered the confusion bubbling in his chest watching all of this happen. He remembered it all — that’s why he was there, wasn’t it?[alt. title: eddie lives and richie takes him to the kissing bridge]





	same souls, both sides of the banks

**Author's Note:**

> So I made a simple [tumblr post](https://punkenigma.tumblr.com/post/187626042250/okay-so-i-hear-all-of-yall-with-your-richie) talking about a hc and people absolutely lost their shit over it. Naturally, I had to write something based off it. 
> 
> This is truly my first time writing these characters so hopefully it isn't too shit, but feedback is greatly appreciated!

“Would you just tell me where we’re going?” Eddie asked, peering out the passenger window. Richie tightened his grip on the wheel. He had toyed with the idea of walking there like when they were kids, but realized that if this entire plan went as poorly as he thought then neither him nor Eddie would be able to stand walking back to the Inn together. 

“No can do, Eduardo. We’re almost there.”

Eddie grumbled.

“I feel oddly like I’m being kidnapped.”

“Is it kidnapping if you love me?”

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Eddie supplied. Richie deflated a bit. They turned the corner and he parked. It wasn’t exactly safe to park in the middle of the road, but at that point he couldn't bring himself to care about other people. People outside of Eddie, that is. 

“What are we —”

Before he could finish, Richie sprung from the car and walked to the passenger side; opening the door. Eddie got out and looked at him quizzically. Richie just nodded his head in the direction of the bridge and began to walk, hands in his jacket pockets. Hearing Eddie jog a bit to follow him, he slowed down — not much, just enough to make it easier to keep conversation. He didn’t want to make Eddie feel bad. 

“Rich, what are we doing here?”

“You’ll see.”

“Or you could stop with the cryptic shit and just tell me?”  
“Were you always this annoying?”

“Don’t you remember? I learned from the best.”

He said it with a grin, one slightly strained due to the stitches in his cheek. Richie shook his head, chuckling. He did remember, though some of it was fuzzier than the rest. He remembered growing up with five-foot-nothing, anxious Eddie Kaspbrak as his best friend; his partner in crime. He remembered the hideout, the broken arm, he remembered Eddie’s slowly gained confidence. He remembered the confusion bubbling in his chest watching all of this happen. He remembered it all — that’s why he was there, wasn’t it? 

As they neared the end of the bridge, Richie slowed to a stop. Eddie followed suit, albeit too quickly, and nearly rammed into the taller man. Richie steadied him.

“Jesus, Eds, slow your roll will you?”

Ears turning pink, Eddie mouthed an apology. Richie gnawed on his bottom lip and avoided eye contact. Eddie’s brows furrowed. As far as he could remember, this was the quietest, the most anxious, he’d ever seen his friend. 

_ Friend _ , he thought,  _ being the operative word there.  _ He’d considered other words to describe Richie before. Words that had truth behind them ( _ best friend _ ), words that didn’t ( _ brother _ ). Words that he wished did ( _ love, boyfriend, more-than _ ). He had stopped dwelling on descriptors when they were teens, when Richie had moved away (when everyone seemed to move away, really), but those thoughts — that infernal internal dialogue — returned as soon as they did.

When Richie was nervous, Eddie realized, the telltale sign was his eyes. The man had always been lanky, too much limb to know what to do with even when they were kids, so his wringing hands or shuffling feet weren’t always obvious. And contrary to popular belief, he wasn’t  _ always _ talking. He could easily slip into hyper fixated or contemplative that would cause moments of silence, not to mention sometimes it just took him too long to think of a joke. Nevertheless, silence was also not an easy bet for figuring out Richie’s feelings. 

His eyes were the give away. When Richie was happy or angry or passionate in any capacity, he made eye contact. He held firm in his convictions and didn’t shy away from boring a hole into what or whoever it was he was talking to. When he was focused, he would squint and fix his glasses  _ constantly _ , even when there was nothing to fix. When he was sad or anxious he would bore holes into anything other than who he was talking to. He would stare at a crack in the concrete, a bug on the wall, the hem of his jeans. 

And on that bridge he stared behind Eddie’s leg, fixated on something in the distance. Eddie cleared his throat, trying to ignore how unnerving it was and the tugging feeling telling him to turn and look where Richie was. 

“What are we doing here, Rich?” he asked, quieter than intended. But Richie heard him — he always did. And finally, he replied.

“That summer… after everything finished,” he paused, adding, “the first time. I realized some… things and didn’t really have anyone to talk to about it and so I came here.”

“To the… to the kissing bridge?”

Richie nodded, finally removing his eyes from whatever was so fascinating behind Eddie’s leg. He swallowed hard before looking up. Making eye contact. Eddie almost shuddered at the ferocity of it, but held strong.

“I’m gay, Eds…” he spoke the first two words with conviction, but once he reached the well-loved nickname his voice faltered and trailed off. He sucked in a breath and tried again.

“I’m gay and I haven’t actually said that out loud until just now because I’ve been so fucking scared. Leave it to ‘Trashmouth’ Tozier to be able to beat a demon clown with a goddamn sewer bat at age fourteen but not be able to face the fact that he’s a fucking…”

Eddie took a step forward, then two, then three and he reached out to his crumbling friend. He reached out and wrapped him in a sturdy embrace while Richie started to cry, pressing his hand hard to his eyes. He let out choked sobs and Eddie held him and it was okay. It  _ was _ okay. Eddie told him as much.

“You’re okay, Richie. Everything, all of it, is okay. It’s all okay.”

Eventually, Eddie’s continuous repetition of the phrase calmed Richie down enough to barely audible sniffling and nodding his head. He patted Eddie’s back before pulling away. Eddie searched his face for something. Richie gave a tight lipped smile. It wasn’t ideal, but it was a start.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. Eddie nodded and looked down before clearing his throat. Richie raised a brow.

“So you, uh, you came here? After everything?”

Richie nodded.

“Why? I mean you don’t have to tell me I just thought —”

“Richie held up a hand, silencing him.

“Eddie do you really think I would have dragged you out here if there wasn’t any reason for it?”

Eddie grinned.

“You’ve dragged me worse places for less.”

“Touché,” Richie laughed. Eddie’s smile grew at the sound, it bringing a semblance of familiarity with it. 

“Alright,” Richie started, “let’s try this again. Without the water works. I’ve got a reputation to uphold, you know?” 

He gave Eddie a pointed look. His eyes darted behind Eddie again, then back to his face, then back and forth a couple times before Eddie finally gave in to the curiosity and turned. His eyes scanned the area, the bridge post, the trees behind. He dragged them across the wood before catching on something. On the top panel, faded but still visible, R + E.

_ R _ \+  _ E _

He opened his mouth, but fell silent at the sound of Richie’s voice.

“I figured some shit out that summer, yeah, but not without some help. Not that this person was ever aware that they were helping.”

“Rich —”

“It’s you, Eds. It always has been. With your stupid shorts and fanny pack and perpetual nagging. Even when I couldn’t remember you or this hell hole, something always felt like it was taking my attention. Someone. My brain had some sort of curtain pulled over it but not my heart. I  _ knew _ something was missing and —”

“Richie —”

“And then we were back and I remembered you and it all made so much goddamn sense. I remembered the bridge and the fear and then… and then I almost lost you. Then that sloppy clown  _ fuck _ nearly had you because of my carelessness but I saw it, in the deadlights, I saw him win. I saw him take you from me and it felt so  _ real  _ that  when you woke me up and you started talking I knew it was going to happen and I just couldn’t let it,”

“Richie —”

“ —Not before I told you all of this. Not before I stopped being scared. I promised myself that once you were safe and we were out of there I’d tell you. I’d bring you here and tell you because I don’t know what’s going to happen when we leave Derry again and I just couldn’t risk not knowing —”

“ _ Richie _ ,” Eddie exclaimed, exasperated, “please shut up for a minute.”

Richie silenced immediately, words dying in his still open mouth. Eddie wasn’t looking at him, instead opting to look up at the sky. His foot tapped nervously.

“I can’t believe I’m just remembering this,” he said, mostly to himself. Richie’s brows knit together.

“Just remembered wh —”  
“_Beep beep, Richie_.”

That was new. Eddie had never used that phrase before. He never wanted to silence Richie, not fully. Not that way. Richie knew this too, always too observant for his own good (at least, when it involved Eddie). Hurt flashed across his face. Eddie exhaled sharply. If he was only going to say it once, he might as well use it for Richie’s benefit. 

He grabbed the taller man’s hand, gently, and dragged him back toward the center of the bridge, eyes scanning hopefully. Richie’s eyes were solely focused on their hands.

“ _ Aha! _ ” Eddie exclaimed, jabbing a finger against the plank of wood. Richie blinked before squinting at where he was pointing. It was shaky and small and faded almost as much as the first, crammed between dozens of other carvings, but it was there:  _ e + r. _

“Eds… what is that?”

“What do you think it is, dumbass?”

Richie shook his head almost robotically, his grip on Eddie loosening. Eddie squeezed his hand tight.

“No… no, Eddie, you need to tell me what that is. Don’t ask me what I think just tell me,” his voice grew soft; unbelieving, “ _ please _ .”

Eddie gaped for a few moments, probably resembling a fish out of water, before nodding. Voice tender, he replied,

“Its you, Rich. Its us.”

Richie felt like he could cry again, and he probably would have if Eddie wasn’t there, turning to face him and squeezing his hand like his life depended on it. And maybe it did. Richie was beginning to feel like their clasped hands were the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground, that without them he’d float away. Or wake up. 

And then, without any intention or forewarning, he laughed. What started as a disbelieving guffaw quickly turned into a full body, tear-jerking laugh that caused Eddie to let out a confused chuckle of his own.

“What?” he asked. Richie shook his head, still laughing.

“We’re fucking tragedies, Kaspbrak, that’s all,”

Eddie snorted in agreement.

“You know, I did this the same summer. We could have easily come here within hours of each other.”

This only caused Richie to laugh louder, not that Eddie was complaining. The whole scene was only causing him to feel even more in love, even when Richie’s laugh turned damn near hysterical. Just when they’d start to calm down they’d make eye contact and immediately laugh harder. As they laughed, they moved closer together, Richie pulling Eddie toward him until their chests were flush against one another. Through airy giggles, Eddie coaxed Richie’s head down toward him. The laughter barely stopped in time for their lips to brush together.

Eddie released Richie’s hand so that he could grab handfuls of his shirt. Richie moved from holding Eddie’s waist to cupping his cheeks, making sure to be gentle around his stitches. The kiss was gentle, but fierce. It was built on years, nearly thirty of them, of silent and intangible love.

And now it could be. Tangible. 

They broke apart, breathy laughter already returning to their lips. Richie grinned, teary-eyed, and pressed a harsh kiss to Eddie’s forehead. 

“I broke it off with Myra, just so you know. Before I came here. Left her a note like some sort of pussy.”

Richie beamed.

“Well shit, Eds, I was looking forward to being your piece on the side.”

Eddie snorted and lightly smacked his stomach. He looked up, holding Richie’s eye contact.

“I hope you can look equally as forward to just being….”

_ Being what? _ There was that debate over descriptors again.  _ His boyfriend?  _ That sounded weirdly juvenile, after everything they’d been through.  _ Partner? _ It wasn’t the eighties anymore. There wasn’t a need to be discreet, not outside of Derry anyways. 

“Just being…?” Richie repeated. Eddie bit his lip.

“ _ Mine, _ ” he settled, “Just being mine.”

Richie smiled again, the same shit-eating grin Eddie had fallen for in the first place. He leaned down and kissed him again, much briefer this time.

“Yeah, I like the sound of that.”

Eddie smiled before Richie pulled back, fishing around his pockets. After muttering a couple expletives, he pulled his pocket knife out.

“There you are you little shit,” he exclaimed, unfurling it. Eddie raised a brow as Richie nodded toward the bridge. 

“Whaddya say we make this official?” He said, winking.  Realization dawned on Eddie as he smiled.

“As long as the E comes first,” he snickered, intertwining their hands. Richie pulled him along in search of an empty spot.

“In your dreams, Eddie Spaghetti.”

**Author's Note:**

> Again, this is my first time writing these two so apologies if they're ooc! Please give feedback if you have any!


End file.
